


Helmsman: Be a Hero

by confiscatedretina



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Helmsman, Helmsman Sollux Captor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4012642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confiscatedretina/pseuds/confiscatedretina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Condesce has gotten herself a brand new Helmsman: your descendant. You're free after a thousand lifetimes, but at what price?</p><p>Some gifts are meant to be returned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helmsman: Be a Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SybLaTortue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybLaTortue/gifts).



> Syblatortue [did it again](http://syblatortue.tumblr.com/post/119909936331/look-elmsman-dearest-aint-ya-proud-a-our-lil). XD I feel a bigger story trying to grow out of this scenario, so, uh...beware? :D

I.

“Pleathe, let me go.”

God, he’s just a kid.

“It hurtth. I can’t…I can’t do thith…”

You watch the tears dribble down his face, his gaunt chest heaving. It’s been three nights; he ran out of strength to scream only a few hours ago. You don’t even remember what that was like.

“I kn…I know you can thee me. Pleathe. Do thomething.”

The biowires are too big for him. You poke at a hole in your elbow without feeling it. Words gather in your throat, the first you’ve spoken in over a hundred sweeps, falling from your mouth cracking and hoarse.

“It getth eathier. You’ll get uthed to it, guppy.”

You turn and shuffle away.

II.

He's gasping and twitching in your lap like a fish out of water. You smear blood away from his mouth with a thumb and he whimpers. Humidity condenses on the window, blurring the stars outside and making the cramped pod feel that much more oppressive.

"Eathy, guppy," you murmur, voice still raw even after a sweep of use.

"Don't," he retches, coughing up blood. "Don't...call me...that."

You pat his head between the horns, hand unsteady. She's coming for him, for you.

"Whuh...where are we?" he can't see without the ship's visual feedback systems.

"Thpace."

"Oh. Why?"

"You were right. I couldn't leave you like that."

"She," he swallows hard, "she'll get uth. Put me back there."

"Not you."

His claws dig into your thigh, half spasm, half shock. "No, you can't!"

"I can handle it."

"But-!" you put a clumsy hand over his mouth.

"You're going to New Atellier. I've dithabled the tracking beacon long enough for thome old friendth of ourth to pick you up."

"Old friendth?" he blinks. "...Karkat? But how...?"

Claws click against your horns in a knowledgeable gesture. "I lithened." Tears choke your words. "He wathn't forgotten."

"'He'...the Thufferer?"

"Yeth. The renegadeth will help you."

A twitching smile crosses bloodied lips. Outside, you feel more than see the stealth craft approaching. There's a sign emblazoned in red on its black side: a heretic's irons.

"They're almotht here," you murmur.

Silence. Then: "Thank you."

"It'th the leatht I could do. He would have wanted it thith way."

"What'th your name? People should know."

You smile sadly. "Mituna."

"I'll tell them. Tell everyone."

His eyes are closed, breathing ragged, but he jumps when the docking clamps latch onto your little pod. A voice is yelling, muffled at first then loudly clear as the hatch is unfastened. A face you've spent a thousand lifetimes forgetting comes into view, mouth open but silent as you gently lift your burden toward his stocky arms.

"Th-thank you," Karkat Vantas even sounds like him.

You nod, tears running unchecked from your eyes. The hatch slams shut as soon as all bodies are clear. Fresh oxygen is blasted inside and then you are shoved free. By the time the pod stabilizes, the renegade ship is gone. Silent sobs ache through your ribs and you cry until there's nothing left. The tracking beacon sputters back to life at your urging.

When the sleek hunter craft emblazoned with the imperial trident comes, you are empty inside once more. A helmsman doesn't need to feel.


End file.
